Nightmares
by PetPetAngel
Summary: Did you think they were lying when they said fear can bring people closer together? [WonkaCharlie] SLASH! [Slight Gore]


PetPetAngel: It's done? It's done! YAY! (I doubt anyone wanted this from me but I did it anyway! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!

(silence)

PetPetAngel: That's what I thought.

Just read it... And review!

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Warning(s): Yaoi/Slash/Shounen-ai, which in other words is dude on dude, guy on guy, you know... Gore (medium, like not extensive, but some), so if that makes you queasy... Watch where you tread... Um, slight swearing... I dunno... Yeah...

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Disclaimer: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (C) Tim Burton Willy Wonka (C) Johnny Depp. And same for the rest of the cast, I should hope... Unless someone else has already "owned" them... 'Cause Charlie DEFINATELY belongs to Wonka...

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Nightmares

Written by:

PetPetAngel

Fic Type: One-Shot

Pairing: Wonka/Charlie (yes the young one)

Dedication: None.

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_I wanna walk and not run,  
I wanna skip and not fall...  
I wanna look at the horizon,  
And not see a building standing tall...  
I wanna be the only one...  
For miles and miles,  
Except for maybe you,  
And your simple smile...  
Oh it sounds good to me,  
Yeah it sounds so good to me... _

- Cowboy Take Me Away by The Dixie Chicks

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Charlie' always wondered why he liked hiding behind Mr. Wonka's coat. He'd just sneak behind the man's legs and clutch the fabric which was scented of a cinnimon mixed with mint -refreshing to say the least- and bury his head into his back. Mr. Wonka didn't seem to mind, either. It was nice to know he could be that close to the man, in more way than one, and have the knowledge that Mr. Wonka didn't mind.

Often when the situation came that they were surrounded by reporters, then Charlie would hide and try to calm down. It was just so loud and eventually it became unbearable. Then they would go inside and Mr. Wonka would ask, "Now that wasn't so bad, was it my dear Charlie?" And then he'd nod and smile at Mr. Wonka, who would return the smile. He would admit. He was very attached to the candyman, he could only hope the candyman felt the same way as he did.

Sometimes Mr. Wonka would hug him. It was rare for him to initiate the hug, and Charlie treasured it when he did. Of course, Charlie hugged Mr. Wonka a lot more, most of the time out of the blue and quite randomly. But the man didn't seem to mind that either. Which was why it confused Charlie when his parents would look strangely at Mr. Wonka as he would wrap a careful arm around Charlie's thin shoulders. Charlie loved it especially when Mr. Wonka's hands tangled into his hair, -it felt nice- Charlie thought, but it always got Mr. Wonka these strange expressions which -Charlie assumed- he ignored.

It was late, that much he knew. He was just walking around the factory, in fact, -he doubted he knew where he was- but made a lucky guess that found hm in his room. Despite that their house was there, Mr. Wonka had offered them all new rooms, though they still spent plenty of their time inside it, but the bedrooms were hard to resist -or so Charlie thought- until he found out the his grandparents had refused new rooms and still stayed in their bed.

It was late and Charlie was well off ready for bed. Just as he opened the door he heard Mr. Wonka wish him a good night. "Sleep well, my dear Charlie." Charlie felt butterflies in his stomach, just like everytime Mr. Wonka called him that. But he turned around and grinned tiredly at him, surprised slightly by how close the candyman was. Mr. Wonka gave him a quick hug and Charlie murmured, dazed.

"You too." He heard the man's chuckling grow faint as he moved away, and Charlie shook his head to clear it of his thoughts. Heading into his room he changed tiredly into his pajamas, a very comfortable pair that Mr. Wonka had given him, and crawled into the huge four-poster bed that was covered in blue satin sheets (the same shade as Wonka's eyes, he had noticed, which was why he had chosen the room) that he loved so much and his mother came in only moments after he had turned around from the door. He felt her pull the blankets up to his chin and he heard her whisper to him.

"Sleep well my baby. Let no bad dreams disturb your sleep." Charlie restrained himself from smiling, she said that every night. It didn't always work, but he appreciated it. Charlie had no idea how badly he would need that thought to tell his nightmares to go away that night.

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Charlie looked around him curiously; tried to move, couldn't. He realized he was bound by the wrists, ankles and stomach, all tied painfully tight. He nearly whimpered from the struggle it took to breath, each breath was like having a fire explode in his chest, and it hurt, choked him like no other pain. He looked around him to see he was in the Chocolate room, the Oompa Loompas were still there, and he tried to call out to them, but he found he had no voice. Charlie could feel the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. His nerves were through the roof and he lowered his head.

_He heard the faint familiar tap of Mr. Wonka's heels and he entered the room, a cruel smile plastered on his face. It was that plastic smile that he had seen when he first met Mr. Wonka, the smile that he hadn't seen in quite some time. But that plastic smile, that was at first just that; a plastic smile, had an air of melancholy and menevelance to it, and that made Charlie scared. _

_He squirmed under the man's unusually hard gaze, those warm cerulean eyes now turned to sapphire ice. He squirmed more, and that only seemed to amuse Mr. Wonka further, and Charlie wondered what he had done to deserve this. Five or so Oompa Loompas came over to Mr. Wonka, each offering a box to him. His eyes lit up as he seemed to struggle which box to choose. Charlie was almost certain he wouldn't like it if any of the boxes were picked. Mr. Wonka didn't seem to favor any of the boxes -Charlie felt relief flood him momentarily- until suddenly, one last Oompa Loompa came up to him and offered a last box and opened it. _

Mr. Wonka's eyes were bright as he picked the contents from the box and into Charlie's view. They looked like perfectly normal chocolate knives (which by itself was abnormal), but Charlie felt no safer. Mr. Wonka's factory had many twists and turns, and even more catches. Mr. Wonka turned again to face him, smirking in a cruel gesture. Taking the knife in his hand and lifting it, he let it fly like a dart into Charlie's chest, and Charlie let out a silent scream of pain. Two more knives, one in his leg and the last below his restraints, which then he realized was candy rope; like licorice.

And then something Charlie didn't expect, something he would've never expected to happen, did. Mr. Wonka dived forward and gave Charlie a bruising kiss. That's when Charlie's tears truly began to flow. Mr. Wonka had kissed him before, even with his tongue once (Mr. Wonka had felt horrible about that a second after it was over and had refused to speak to Charlie until Charlie confronted him, something that Charlie himself didn't understand why he had to do), but he was always gentle and soft about it. This kiss was painful, it was too rough. Too forceful. Charlie wanted to squeeze his eyes shut so that he wouldn't have to see Mr. Wonka do this, but the man wouldn't allow it. His eyes were pried open by an unseen force.

One by one, eyes still locked with Charlie's, Mr. Wonka removed the knives, and Charlie released a muffled scream into his mouth, and Mr. Wonka took the opportunity to shove his tongue into Charlie's mouth, exploring readily. The knife in his chest was removed last, after Mr. Wonka had seperated from him, and he twisted the knife slowly as he removed it. Mr. Wonka licked he blood off that last knife, as if testing something. His brows furrowed and he took a gobstopper out from his mouth and he forced it into Charlie's chest-wound, patting it lightly.

_He undid the shackles that held Charlie bound to the tree, and Charlie flopped none too gracefully into the candyman's arms. Normally those arms would offer him great comfort, and Charlie would normally wrap his arms around the man's neck and then he'd clutch him desperately, as if his soul exhistence depended on the man, but he didn't. This wasn't his Mr. Wonka. Mr. Wonka would never hurt him like this. _

_Mr. Wonka laid him in the 'eatable' grass, and straddled his lap, ground his hips into Charlie's. He took his gloved hand and removed the gobstopper, popped it back into his mouth and smiled, then spit it out beside them. Mr. Wonka bent down over Charlie, began kissing up his jaw, sucking lighly on his neck. It felt nice until Mr. Wonka's hands wandered under his shirt, began pressing harder than necessary, and Charlie was sure he'd have bruises. _

While Mr. Wonka's hands played with Charlie's nipples, his tongue licked away the tears that streamed down his cheeks. Mr. Wonka began whispering in his ear, "Charlie... Charlie... Wake up... It's just a dream... It's just a dream..." Mr. Wonka made a last move and bit the junction at his shoulder.

_And he yelped because it hurt. _

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Charlie shot up from where he was, nearly coliding heads with Mr. Wonka who had been looming over him worriedly. Charlie realized he couldn't see, his vision was blurry and he knew he was crying. Charlie threw his arms around the first person he saw, and he felt those strong, familiar hands running across his back, fingering patterns in the depth of the small of his back. Charlie realized that his head was familiarly placed in the crevice of that familiar neck, and Charlie clutched the man more desperately as his sobs came harder.

His shoulders shook uncontrolbly. His throat felt like it was being blocked and again it hurt to breath. He heard Mr. Wonka whispering comfortingly to him, "Shhh... Shhh... It's alright... It's alright Charlie... No one's going to hurt you... Shhhh... It's over, you're safe... Shhh..." Again, one of Mr. Wonka's hands went to tangle in Charlie's hair, caressing softly. "Shhh... It's alright... It was just a dream..." Charlie nodded slightly, sobs eventually lessening to sniffles. As Mr. Wonka laid Charlie back on his bed, Charlie's mother couldn't help but ask.

"What was that terrible dream you had? You actually began screaming."

Charlie's eyes widened and he blushed a deep cherry red, hiding his eyes from beneath his bangs. "Ummm... Well, Mr. Wonka."

"Hm?" Mr. Wonka looked up at him. Charlie blushed a deeper shade of red if possible.

"No, no, no... My dream... Was about... Mr. Wonka..." People stared, and Mr. Wonka lifted an eyebrow. "Let's just say," he said, looking Mr. Wonka, "If you were like... Evil crazy, you'd be _really_ scary." Mr. Wonka arched both eyebrows this time, giving Charlie a strange look. "And extremely violent." Mr. Wonka's eyes widened, and there was lurking guilt in his eyes.

"...Did I hurt you...?"

Charlie looked down, rubbing the back of his head nervously. He refused to meet Mr. Wonka's eyes. He didn't want to make the man feel bad because of his dream, but he couldn't _not_ say anything. "Well... Yeah... You kinda... Stabbed," he noticed Mr. Wonka flinch, "me a few times," he finished quickly, continuing, "But it was just a dream! Really! ... Mr. Wonka?" Mr. Wonka locked eyes with him, and Charlie said reassuringly, "Don't worry about it, okay? I don't know why I even had a dream like that... I can't see you being violent..." Mr. Wonka nodded and smiled, ruffling Charlie's hair playfully.

"Alright my dear Charlie... I would think though, that we could catch a few more hours of Z's, seeing as it's three in the morning!" Charlie's head whirled to face the clock and he blushed scarlet, but nodded in correspondence to Mr. Wonka's statement. Soon the room cleared out, Mr. Wonka first, bidding them both goodnight, and then Charlie's mother, who gave him a comforting hug and repeated her words from earlier.

"Sleep well my baby. Let no bad dreams disturb your sleep." He nodded and rested his head on the pillow, felt his mother once again bring the sheets to his chin, and she kissed him on the forehead this time. Charlie settled his eyes closed, but only moments after they shot open. He tried again, but with the same result. Charlie turned to lay on his back, and stared at the ceiling. He felt his eyes drooping, so close to sleep... But it just wouldn't take him. Charlie growled. Why him of all people? Why him? "Ugh."

He climbed sourly out of bed, knowing if he waited an hour trying, he would get absolutely nowhere fast. His feet padded softly on the tile floor, and he took several twists and turns in the hallways, even saw a few Oompa Loompas, but he kept on his way to the room that he would go to several nights a week, sometimes, after his parents fell asleep, he would sneak (just as he was) out of his room and go to his. To Mr. Wonka's. As he knocked on the door, Charlie blushed despite himself. He heard the door creak open and he looked to those blue eyes he loved.

Loved...

Mr. Wonka ushered him inside immediately, and climbed back into bed after he turned off the light. He patted the spot next to him welcomingly and he opened his arms out. Charlie dashed into his welcoming arms, clutching him. Charlie tucked his head under Mr. Wonka's neck, and just before he fell to a blissfull oblivion, he asked, "Mr. Wonka?"

"Hmmm?"

"I think I love you."

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Wonka didn't think he heartbeat could've sped up any worse than it had. He made a strangled sound from the back of his throat and opened his eyes, meeting the curious blue of Charlie's own. "You don't know what it means when you say that," he said softly, running his hands through Charlie's hair, a nervous habit (and perhaps fetish) he had gained from being around the boy. "You don't know what you're saying," he said guiltily, wishing against all that he was lying when he said that. He saw Charlie's eyes narrow.

"Yes I do." Wonka shook his head 'no,' but Charlie was persistant and he insisted. "I love you like my mum loves my dad. Like... Like..." He struggled to find words, and for a brief moment I hoped he _did_ know what he was talking. And I was surprised when his resolve didn't crumble. "Like I want to spend a really long time with just you... Maybe forever even... Yeah... That'd be nice..." He sounded like he was drifting off to sleep, and Wonka looked down to see the eyelids drooping. He kissed Charlie on the lips.

"Sleep now. We can argue this later."

"Hmmm..."

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The next morning was a strange one. Wonka knew exactly what was going on when he saw Charlie's family, suitcases packed, standing in front of him. They had finally found out. He stopped walking immediately and Charlie clutched my jacket tighter, his eyes wide. Wonka removed his hand from his hair sharply, and Charlie cast a confused glance to him. He didn't say anything, and he felt Charlie stiffen behind him. "What the-?" Was all the confused boy could manage.

"Charlie. We're leaving."

Wonka noticed something steel in Charlie's eyes, and something told him that what the boy was going to do for a while would catch him off guard. "...Depends who you mean when you say 'we.' Who's included in 'we'?" It seemed everyone was a bit taken aback by the edge in Charlie's voice. His eyes were the dark sapphire as if he were mad, and Wonka lowered his head so that no one would have to see how he felt.

"All of us, Charlie. All of us."

"I'm not going. Why were 'we' leaving again?" He used air quotes and his mother flinched noticibly. It was then that it seemed only the parents were fighting against them. The grandparents other than Grandpa Joe weren't there, and even Grandpa Joe seemed detached from the parents. There was rage in the parents faces, their body language, and their words seemed spat out.

"Charlie... My baby," Charlie flinched, "Mr. Wonka has a sickness... He's a pedophile... And you see, a pedophile... Is..." Her husband finished for her.

"Son, a pedophile is a man or woman... Who loves children..." He searched for the word. "Inappropriately." Wonka felt like hiding, just running and hiding, but the words that Charlie had spoken last night after his nightmare rang in his ears. 'I think I love you...' Still, a painful tug pulled at his heart, and his mind kept repeating to him, 'You sick, sick man...

"So," Charlie spoke, voice still with an edge, "You're saying that Mr. Wonka loves me in a way he shouldn't. Well, I love him back."

"No, no, no... No, Charlie. He loves you like-" Charlie cut his mother off.

"I know. Mr. Wonka loves me like you love dad. And like how... Grandpa and Grandma love eachother. And they got married. That kind of love, right?" Charlie's parents nodded a bit dumbstruck. "I know. Mr. Wonka loves me that way, and I love him back. You know. Like I want to spend the rest of my life with him." The anger disppeared from Charlie's mother's face. Her husband was about to speak, but she quieted him.

"Charlie... Even... If it's wrong, just explain for me... And I'll let you know what I think. What are you willing to give to be with Mr. Wonka? What would you give to Mr. Wonka."

"Everything. Mr. Wonka is a wonderful man. I'd give anything to him. He's my best friend. I love him."

Wonka ran as he saw Mrs. Bucket nod.

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He somehow ended up in his own room, it was strange. She hadn't said no, in fact, she had nodded affirmatively. Wonka didn't know why he ran. Lighter footsteps padded behind his own heels, and he knew Charlie was there as he flopped himself unceromoniously on his bed. Charlie crawled up to him, smiled, and kissed hm on the lips, snuggling into Wonka's chest. He accepted it silently, and he knew that for sure, Charlie wouldn't be having any nightmares anymore.

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_Have you ever thought that as you slept your soul visited heaven? _

- Me

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PetPetAngel: I like it in the beginning. The end seemed stale until the last paragraph, but that's just me. I hope you enjoyed this, it was really spur of the moment.

Trespasser: ...

PetPetAngel: You're alive!

Trespasser: ... What does it look like?

PetPetAngel: (sighs) Yup, you haven't changed a bit.

Please leave a review/comment thingie!

Ja Ne!


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